


A Little Piece of Heaven Raising Hell

by Coshledak



Series: one-hundred percent chocolate [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basket
Genre: Gen, M/M, Tokyo Ghoul AU, Tokyo Ghoul crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coshledak/pseuds/Coshledak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the 4th Ward, the power to back up your reputation is the only thing that matters. Hanamiya’s set up a nice little corner for himself and his followers, but scorpions are tricky little shits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Piece of Heaven Raising Hell

I.

“What are you going to do if you do meet him?” Hara asks, popping his gum. Well, gum is a loose idea of what it is, because it doesn’t contain anything that a human would find palatable.

Hanamiya laughs, a brief bark of a sound, sliding red-black eyes to Hara, “It’s not wise to plan before you know your opponent.”

“You don’t have any idea?”

“Kill him,” Hanamiya replies, swirling his glass slightly, holding the rim between his fingertips. “But I thought that was obvious. That plan, however, depends on what information Hiroshi returns with.”

“ _If_ he returns with anything useful,” Seto pipes up. “That’s not exactly a guarantee.”

Hanamiya turns a pleasant, soft smile to him. “Have faith, Kentarou. Hiroshi’s excellent at returning with necessary information.”

Seto frowns, “Yeah, but you think that ghoul is hanging around just waiting for us to get our information together? I’m not saying we should set up a strike, or anything, but there are other avenues. You’ve got other ghouls in the area--”

“But none of them are reliable,” Hanamiya answers, simply. Tipping more of the blood past his lips and licking the stain away. “The fourth ward is ruled by fear and nothing more. Giving any information that implies we’re in need help will only give them the idea we’re weak.” 

There’s no further argument to be given, and the trio sits in silence as they wait for Yamazaki to return. Hanamiya tilts back the rest of his drink and rests for a few moments before getting up to refill it, just finding his seat again as they hear cursing and shuffling from the front area of the bar. The place is vacated this time of day, so it’s no surprise when Yamazaki appears, shoving the door open--with his foot and no shortage of anger. Something is slung over his shoulder, carried like an overly heavy gym bag.

“Look who decided to show up,” Seto says. It shouldn’t be possible for him to recline further back on the couch, but he does it anyway. Hara’s gum pops next to him and he smiles as his tongue pries the sticky edges from his mouth, getting at the rest of it with his fingers. 

“Yeah, bite me,” Yamazaki snaps, tossing the heavy, black bag onto the table. “I brought her.”

Hanamiya taps his foot on the air, his cheek resting against his curled fingers. “I can see that, but she’s not going to give us any answers from in there, now, is she?”

Yamazaki rolls his eyes, but steps forward to unzip the bag and flip it on its side. A limbless torso topples onto the glass, gasping and choking as it lands face down. Hanamiya rolls the pointer finger of his free hand in a circular motion and Yamazaki grabs the bloodied shirt, flipping the mutilated body over. His job done, he falls back onto the shorter edge of the sectional adjacent to Seto and Hara. The torso tries to move its missing limbs, sobbing and gasping, and Hanamiya slides forward in his chair a bit, looking at it from upside down with an innocent smile.

“I’m so sorry to have to do this,” he explains, voice a gentle blanket. His hands rest on her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the soft, blood-flecked skin. “But I’ve heard that you may have some information on the ghoul encroaching on my territory.”

II.

Their mysterious trespasser is a bikaku type who’s known as the Scorpion. Hanamiya doesn’t think it’s very clever, and that’s certainly not because of his predisposed disadvantage as the possessor of a rinkaku type.

III.

He finds his amusement and patience waning the more the Scorpion lingers in his territory. It’s hard to say he’s biding his time, but that’s the only phrase that can be patched over the way he operates. There are very few loyalties in the 4th ward, so he can’t be amassing a strike force. Besides, from what Hanamiya’s seen, he prefers to work alone, to strike, quick and brutal, and leave a mark. So far, he hasn’t attacked anyone of importance, but his strikes are meticulous and careful. It’s like he’s trying to leave a message, but the dots don’t connect.

And that’s more frustrating than anything else.

IV.

When he finally meets him, he’s met him before.

V.

Hanamiya coughs up blood onto the concrete, but pushes himself to his feet again. Life’s always been like that in the fourth ward, so this isn’t much of a surprise. The entire ward is built on the idea of reputations but, in the end, all it comes down to is power and who has it. He took over these feeding grounds by killing the original ghoul who had them. There wasn’t negotiation or pleasant talks, an agreement to pass on real estate or to rent. He ripped that ghoul’s kagune off and ate it, and then he ate her.

It’s the circle of life that the same would happen to him some day.

Two of the eight legs of his kagune have already been ripped out and the back of his shirt and pants are soaked through, but nothing compares to the dizziness. He barely manages to dodge around another jab, but he makes it count, hooking the two remaining legs on one side around it and using the other four to stab up through it. 

“Come now, Makoto,” the Scorpion practically coos, as if there isn’t blood running down his face and holes punctured through his sides. The perfect size to fit the legs of Hanamiya’s kagune. He’s unfazed. “I was trying to be nice. Do you really want me to rip out your remaining kagune as well?”

Hanamiya chokes down a scream when he feels a _hand_ digging into his lower back, where his kagune have burst free. It doesn’t hesitate to shove deep, past muscle and spine, as if trying to scoop out his kagune from the inside with his bare fingers. He can’t even coordinate the paralyzed extension of his body. Every twitch of the fingers carving their way through his lower back pulls on some string, some muscle, he didn’t even realize existed until now. It’s brutally raw, as if he doesn’t even need the stronger kagune.

“St-stop…!” he gasps. “You’re right! It’s yours! Wh-- _ack_!” More blood rushes from between his teeth even as the fingers still against his back, digging through so much that they’re probably to his internal organs by now. “What ever you want…”

“Hm?”

“I’ll take them out,” he says. “J-just stop.”

A beat passes, then two, until the hand finally slides out of his back. More vital fluid gushes out around the gesture, and he collapses to his knees after extracting his kagune. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, but that doesn’t stop his abused insides from gagging up a flow of blood that spews between his fingers. 

Then his eyes widen and he tips his face up to look at the Scorpion’s mask, “You know...my name…?”

The smile that spreads across his opponent's face is a gash. “You don’t remember me? And I thought that look we exchanged at the coffee shop meant something. I’m disappoint--”

“ _Just kidding!_ ” Hanamiya lunges forward, thrusting the remaining leg of his kagune that held any strength in it through the Scorpion’s stomach. The grin on his face hurts, but it’s a beautiful, near-forgotten kind of pain. He’s missed it. He’s missed this. “You talk too much, idiot. As if I care that you know who I am!”

His attack succeeds, but its followed by a precise and piercing agony just through the underside of his jaw. It penetrates through his upper palate and past his nose, probably stopping just short of his brain, the thicker base holding his mouth together like a wired jaw. He laughs in spite of it, tasting blood over his tongue as they stand there, mutually skewering each other. It’s almost hilariously symbolic, isn’t it?

“Clever little spider, aren’t you?” the Scorpion murmurs. “Is that why you’re so ruthless? Too smart to sit around, waiting until you’re hungry again?”

Hanamiya’s arms move to his opponent’s tail, pushing down not to remove it, but to hold it still as he lifts himself up. He raises himself off of the spike, opening his mouth just as the pointed tip slips out of his tongue. 

“Prick.”

His leg connects with the side of the Scorpion’s face and they fall into separate heaps. He drags himself up again, but he’s beyond his even his exceptional healing capacity and can’t get back to his feet. When he tries, he feels a heavy boot press down between his shoulder blades, holding him there as hands seize one of his already weakened legs and pulls, hard. From the previous damage he can feel it tear free with a matching scream ripping its way up his raw throat. Fingers scratch at the concrete, his nails splintering, though he isn’t sure he’s even trying to get away anymore.

“Six…” he coos, tearing the limb free and going for another one. “...five……” _Squish._ “....four….”

He loses consciousness on three.

VI.

He watches the pattern of rain droplets form on the large front window of the cafe, his sleeve slightly folded up over the heel of his hand and tucked under his chin. The fingers of his other hand are woven over and under a well-loved book, the spine cracked and frayed in a unique and impossible to replicate pattern. It catches gently against the pad of his fingertip as he runs it along the threads of use, thinking. It’s easier to think in the 8th Ward than it is in the 4th, and he doesn’t get the same unpleasant glares that he gets in the 20th. It’s quieter here, and worth the early trip to avoid the rain. Besides, he needed a quiet place to think about this rumor of someone sneaking into his territory.

“Excuse me?”

Hanamiya turns his head to face the person reflected in the wet glass, blinking at the black haired stranger. He’s holding two cups of coffee and wearing a smile that’s not wide but still manages to make the way his eyes are closed seem natural. The mugs are the steaming ceramic mugs of the in-house variety, meaning they’re meant to be sat with and enjoyed inside, while also meaning ‘company’. Before he says anything, Hanamiya knows what this is.

“I noticed your coffee was running low, so I brought you a fresh one,” he says, by way of greeting. “I’m on my break. Do you mind if I join you?”

The smile is fake, balanced with practiced ease on the top of a soft expression. Still, somehow, Hanamiya gets the feeling that the stranger knows that he can tell that it's fabricated, but he answers all the same, “Not at all.”

Seeming content with the response, the stranger sets the replenished mug in front of him as Hanamiya folds over the page of his book and sets it aside. He finishes the rest of his old mug to feel some satisfaction in pulling the fresh one closer.

Across the table, his guest cools his coffee by blowing on it, then frowns. “How rude of me.”

Hanamiya lifts his eyes from the patterns of the rain again and meets that smile instead, though, this time, it seems more genuine. That puts him more on edge than the previous facade, but he doesn't show it in the slightest. He simply blinks and tilts his head, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says. “I’m Imayoshi Shouichi.”

"Hanamiya Makoto," he answers, because nothing raises flags like refusing to give your name.

Especially to a fellow ghoul.

**Author's Note:**

> More Tokyo Ghoul crossover? I have nothing. I might do more of this later. I have other ideas.


End file.
